Someday
by PCGirl
Summary: Joliefuturistic. After a final blow at each other John and Natalie are apart for 5 years. Can they finally get rid of the past ghosts or will 'someday' never come?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters are property of ABC/Disney. I'm not trying to make a buck off them--just using them to help fill the world with better Jolie stories than we currently see on tv.

A/N: Welcome to my latest disaster--I mean creation. Hope you like--hope you are still around, and maybe I hope that it'll even spark your muse to work with you. :) Until next time--ya'll are the best--PCGirl.

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"It's not really that bad," said Natalie as she rolled her eyes before flinching at the peroxide being applied to her cut lower lip.

"When did we switch roles and you become the doctor?" asked Michael as he finished dabbing the area. "Rex—keep the ice on your knuckles, please," asked Michael again—and again getting a grunting noise from the seat next to the examining table.

"You two still won't tell me who or what did this to you?" he asked as he pulled back and looked at Natalie—she'd gotten the worst of it from whoever the jerk was, a busted lip, bruising along her jaw line, her shirt was missing buttons and though she wouldn't pull up her sleeves all the way he could see some strong bruising appearing on her arms also.

"I told you—I fell in Angel Square, Rex caught me, but I took him down with me," lied Natalie—hoping she could practice on Michael the story they'd made up on the ride back from AC.

She had expected problems with George—but never of this magnitude—she shivered at thinking how he'd ripped the top buttons of her shirt and touched the soft part of her chest. She started to go back into the shock of what did happen before Rex came in, but she heard Michael's voice, which kept her in a limbo between the two.

"Hey—hey—Kid—focus on me. Focus. What the hell happened Balsom?" he yelled a bit too loud.

"Natalie," said Rex and he moved Michael over and tilted her head to look at him. "Natty—come back to me," he smiled as her eyes focused on his and she threw her arms around him before beginning to sob quietly. "Hey—hey—it's ok, we're back in Llanview, and he's not going to touch you."

Suddenly the door on the other side of the pulled curtain opened, "Mikey—you in here?"

"Uh yeah," said Michael as he looked at Rex who lipped _get him out of here—now._ Michael walked to the other side of the curtain, "What's up?"

"I—is everything ok?" he asked as he heard what sounded like a female crying.

"Yeah—I was just—having to do deal with an upset patient."

"Oh, well I'll let you go," he said as he began to turn and saw the purse on the floor—he recognized it immediately and before Michael could say anything he pulled the curtain back, "Natalie?"

Him speaking her name made her pull away from Rex and wipe her eyes, "John."

"What's going on?" he asked as he looked at all three guilty faces. "Someone talk."

"It's nothing John—I fell—," she stuttered.

"Like hell you did," he said, taking in her appearance and realizing only half of what happened, "Did you go back to AC?"

"No—I fell," she repeated, trying to put more confidence in her words when she wanted to just fall into his arms and cry.

"Damn it. You went to AC and got attacked, didn't you? Why Natalie? Why couldn't you just listen to me and stay the hell out of my business. For once listen to me when I tell you to stay away," he said, exasperated at what his demons were doing to her.

"Fine—I heard you loud and clear, Lieutenant," she said, getting off the table and wobbly leaning over to grab her purse before storming out of the room.

Rex began to follow her before handing John the information that they'd been able to get out of George once they had him tied up and a gun to his head, "She nearly got herself raped in order to help your ass."

And with those words Rex was gone, and Natalie was gone from his life.

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_Five Years Later_

John pulled his rented black Silverado up to the two story house in the Atlanta suburb—he was halfway up the walkway when a male in his thirties ducked under the police crime scene tape and met him.

"Agent John McBain," spoke John with an extended hand.

"Damn Porter. Thanks for coming all the way down here—they told me you've been through multiple serial killers, so this might be a walk in the park for you."

"Yeah, well it still doesn't get any easier."

"Tell me about it—seeing what man is really capable of—and they call us civilized."

John gave a shrug as Damon held up the crime scene tape for him and they began walking down the hallway, "What's the crime scene like?"

"Grizzle—like all the rest have been," he said as they walked carefully into the kitchen. "Luckily we have the best Forensics expert in the area—and she's a total babe too," he said while giving a wicked grin.

"Dame, Jenn would kill you if she heard you calling me that," said the person who was photographing the concrete steps that led into the garage. She put her camera down to introduce herself and froze for a moment at seeing him standing there. Not to give anything away to Damon that she knew him she pretended he was a stranger—wishing he really were one, "Hi—I'm Natalie Buchannan."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi," spoke John as he looked straight into her eyes—that half grin appearing on her face and she couldn't help but smiling back.

"So what can you tell me about the scene?" he asked—waiting to hear if she was as good as he had known she would be.

"It's always women coming back from their daily jog—sometimes the attack occurs in the morning, sometimes the evening. He gains entry from the unlocked side garage door, then waits for them just inside the house."

"How do you know the side door is always unlocked?"

"When we've talked to their roommate or significant other they've all said that they leave the side door to the garage unlocked when they go jogging," answered Damon.

"Exactly," stated Natalie as she stepped into the kitchen. "Each time the location he attacks her is different—suggesting he might know the exterior of the house, but not the interior. This time it seems he stood there and caught her before she closed the door—since her water bottle was on the steps—and the stream from the lid seemed to splatter before bouncing off the step and onto the floor. You know he was already in the house because there's no wet shoeprints."

John nodded at everything she was telling him—from what he heard she was right about everything, "So what is your profile of this guy?" he asked Damon.

"Come with me to my car—I'll show you the stuff I brought on the other victims," said Damon as he turned to leave the kitchen.

He just nodded and followed—when he got to the opposite doorway he turned and took a moment just to stare at Natalie—she watched his mouth open for a moment to speak but he just gave her a gracious nod before going to do his job.

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"I mean of all the agents they had to send, did it have to be him?" groaned Natalie to her sister as she sat in her office trying to straighten up before leaving for the day.

"Did he actually say anything to you?" asked Jess

"No, we didn't have time—but it was completely awkward to just stand there in front of him as if I were giving my testimony on the stand.

"It's just—I should be grateful they sent us one of the best agents to deal with serial killers, because let's face it—John knows a thing or two about them," spoke Natalie, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

"You'd just it rather be someone else—I get that, Nat."

"Yeah, well I don't think he will," sighed Natalie again as she heard her nephew in the background. "I'll let you go take care of Chase."

"Okay—and relax Natalie—maybe something good will come out of this," laughed Jessica.

"Yeah right." A few minutes after hanging up the phone she heard a knock on the door," Come in," she called and peeked up from some paperwork to see him come in and went back to the paperwork, "Need something, sir?"

"Just wanted to say hi—see how you were doing—I've, I've missed talking to you."

"I'm fine," she said shortly.

"I can tell," he spoke as he walked over to a wall where she had her diploma and other certificates displayed. "I always knew you'd be great at your job."

"Then why wouldn't you let me help you?" she snapped. "Sorry—I forgot—I was supposed to stay out of your business—won't happen again."

"Natalie," he sighed as she stood up and took her coat off the back of her chair.

She shook her head, "I left Llanview and came down here because I wanted to prove to myself I really wanted to do this job, and you know what—I'm damn good at it."

"I'm not arguing with you—why are you arguing with me?" he asked, confused about the direction of the conversation they were having.

As she spoke she walked placed her purse strap on her shoulder and walked around the cherry desk, "Because—all I wanted was to help you and you wouldn't let me. It hurt John—it hurt that you didn't think I could do it, and now you're here watching me do my job and I'm just trying to establish some rules before you going belittling me again."

"I never thought—."

"Stop—just stop," she said as she placed a hand strongly against his chest. "We're not friends anymore John—we're just two people doing our job—so let's keep the past there and for once be professional—women's lives are depending on it," she spoke, giving him one more glance before walking out of her office.

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John sat in his rented hotel room looking at the information Damon had given him earlier—so far there had been four killings—all the women in their late twenties or early thirties and already climbing the corporate ladder at a rapid pace.

Whoever had been watching them before the attacks knew not only their daily schedule but their roommate or significant other's schedule also. It was almost as if they drove past the house everyday like clockwork—a delivery worker or serviceman.

He wrote a note down to get a list of the services for each neighborhood affected and see what company's kept popping up. Could they be jealous of their profession compared to what a woman was doing? Or was the fact they were becoming successful at their jobs just a coincidence.

Despite his best efforts his mind wandered to Natalie—she was becoming strongly successful at forensics. Could he somehow find out about her position on these cases and start going after her?

This had always been the argument they had when he started a case like this before—that he'd tell her to step away for her own safety—that he couldn't focus on the killer if she was still in harms way. That had been his fear with her helping with his dad's case—she'd get too involved and then get hurt or worse—he hadn't been able to explain it then.

He was given another chance to lay everything out on the table, and when it was all said and done maybe she'd see that they deserved to try and rewrite the ending.


	3. Chapter 3

She skipped stopping by her office the next morning—knowing she didn't have time to check e-mail. While yesterday her clothing was a simple black pair of pants and a button up shirt, with her hair pulled into a pony tail, today it had changed into a blue business suit and her hair pulled up into a twist—making her look more professional, knowledgeable, and believable for the witness stand in a few hours.

Her shoes clicked on the tile floor as she walked into Damon's office without a knock, "Good morning. I've got two cases at the courthouse today—the first case starts in an hour so I wanted to stop by now and give you the lab results. I'll be back later this afternoon, but not sure when."

A grin crept on John's face at seeing her standing there—it wasn't the Natalie he was used to seeing, the one in jeans and a blouse leaning over a pool table, but definitely one he could get used to.

Natalie ignored the look on his face and turned to Damon, "What were you talking about?"

"John thinks this guy is some sort of delivery person—we're going to look into it this morning."

"Probably do a news conference later this afternoon—get him to start slipping up," said John as he watched the look on her face change drastically.

"Are you serious? That's the stupidest thing you could do, McBain—I thought you'd learned your lesson about news conferences years ago," she snapped before turning and storming out of the office.

Damon groaned as he jumped out the chair and caught her down the hallway. "Stop right there Buchanan," he said as he saw her turn and the look she gave him could stop his heart in an instant. "What the hell was that?"

"I just don't like arrogant ego-driven jerks coming into _my_ crime scene and _my _case and trying to do things their way—not listening to my suggestions or letting me help them when I'm pretty good at doing my job if you haven't noticed."

"I know that," he said as he quieted down some and saw her ease back also.

"I'm sorry—I just don't think a news conference is a good idea this early into the case."

"Four deaths already is early?"

"No, it's not—but I've heard of serial killers deviating from their normal MO when that approach is used," she said, loud enough that she hoped John had heard her. "I—I need to go."

"You also need to apologize to Agent McBain."

"Yeah, sure—I will," she nodded hastily before leaving. "Leave me a message if anything happens—I'll check my voice mail after I'm done," she said turning back and giving him a smile.

"Will do. Go get 'em, tiger," he grinned as he watched her walk off.

John had sat quietly while he heard Damon and Natalie's conversation—she'd used the phrase _deviate from the norm_ to describe what happened to cause Caitlyn's death. That comment had hurt worse that the arrogant ego-driven male comment. He ran a hand over his face as Damon walked back in, "Everything ok?"

"Yeah—she can just go a little over the top when trying to prove her point," he laughed as he sat back down in his chair and began reading the report she'd brought him.

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing when it comes to doing that," said John to himself.

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Natalie hit the pool ball with more force than she had meant to—her testimony had gone flawlessly, her anger at John's suggestion had made her believable and passionate on the stand—hopefully sealing the fate of both of the accused.

She'd have to make sure she thanked John for still having the ability to get her going.

When she'd gotten done though and checked messages she found out that none of the delivery services were consistent through all four neighborhoods. She'd gone home and changed into something relaxing before going to a nearby pub to play a few games of pool and clear her head about the case.

She took her next shot and missed badly.

"You always had trouble with that shot," came a voice behind her and she turned to see John standing there watching her.

"How'd you find me?"

"Well, I figured there weren't any hotel roofs for you to sit and ponder on so I asked for the nearest place that had a pool table. I knew you pretty well back then," he said, his voice mixed between solemn and frustrated at the case.

"Yeah, we knew each other then pretty well, didn't we?" she said as she just stared at him for a minute, trying to silently read him. When she realized what she was doing she coughed and began taking the balls out of the pockets, "We gonna play or what?"

He gave her a slight chuckle as he began racking the balls and they played in silence, first one game, then a second—thinking about the same thing but not ready to bounce ideas off each other yet.

"Hey—what are you two doing here?" asked Damon as he walked in with his wife Jenn.

"You know me—got to play in order to think," laughed Natalie as she saw Jenn holding a magazine.

"Is that what I think it is?" she jumped and grabbed it from her.

John watched her react like a child as he looked at Damon for answers.

"It's called Buzz—an Atlanta magazine that's doing feature articles on career driven women—and the latest article is about our own Natalie," he said.

"Honey you look amazing," spoke Jenn as she leaned with Natalie against the pool table.

"Stop it."

"Seriously—doesn't she look hot," she said handing the magazine to John.

He stared at the picture—she was sitting on the corner of a bed in what looked like an old hotel room—if he hadn't known any better he would think it was their room from before. She had on a teal shirt with a black blazer, was leaning slightly forward as the strap of a camera hung from her hands.

The look she was giving into the camera was one that made him gulp. For the causal observer it was one that said she meant business, but for him and others that knew her well the look was one of determination when it came to helping someone she cared deeply about.

He looked up to see Natalie was waiting for an answer, "Definitely hot," he said with a smirk as he passed the magazine over to Damon and watched Natalie's face become flushed.

"Who's up for some dinner? I'm starving," said Natalie as she put down the pool stick and walked over to a table.

"Sure—we're in," said Damon as he and Jenn followed. "What about you Agent McBain?"

"I'll have to pass—maybe another time. Congratulations, kid," he said with a wink as he turned and left the bar.

After Damon went up to get their food Jenn leaned over the table and looked Natalie straight in the eye, "So how long did you two sleep together?"

Natalie choked and nearly spewed her beer across the table and all over her friend, "Excuse me?"

"Oh come on—my husband might be too dense to realize it, but I could tell the moment I walked in the bar you had a history together. You don't act that relaxed with any of the guys I've seen you go out with—with him you were in the zone, as if you'd played pool hundreds of times. So tell me about him? Is he as dark and brooding as he seemed just then?"

She couldn't help but give a slight smirk as she played with the label on her beer, "Yeah—he is."

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She double checked the room number before knocking with her free hand, the other hand holding a six-pack of beer.

"Who is it?" he said, an annoyed tone in his voice.

"It's me," she spoke and within seconds the door opened and she could read his face—wondering how she knew where to find him. "To answer your question I remembered the FBI isn't really up for setting their agents in posh accommodations," she smiled as she walked on past him.

"What's the visit for then?"

"I wanted this to be totally professional, but I can tell there's too much garbage in the way for that to happen—so let's clear up any past misgivings now," she said as she uncapped a beer and handed it to him.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hope you are still with me on this--sorry I've been so slow lately at updating. Bad Katie--go stand in the corner. hehehe. ;) Enjoy! Until next time--you know what--PCGirl.

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"Any past misgivings?" he repeated with a cocked eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," she said as she sat down on the small couch that furnished his room. She took a glance around the room—being transported back to Angel Square Hotel for a moment. She looked down at her bottle, messing with the label before looking up, "Michael told me you caught your dad's killers—that it was Paige and David."

"Yeah—talk about a shock," said John as he took a longer gulp than he'd planned before sitting down on the couch. "The information that you got from George—it helped solve the case—I never got to thank you for that. You'd left by the time I had a chance to."

"You said to get out of your life—I was just following orders," she said coldly, harshly.

"I know—and I'm sorry I said that. It was just I never wanted help—was too proud to ask for it—when I needed it. The truth was I—I needed you—you always kept a level head when it came to cases I was working on."

Natalie gave a loud, hearty, laugh, "You must be talking about someone else."

"No—It's the truth. I think that's why you are so great at your job."

"So you admit it—I'm good at what I do."

"I always knew you would be," he said as he reached over and grabbed the magazine that was opened to her picture. "This picture—was it taken where I think it was?"

She gave a snorted laugh, leave it to John to recognize the room, "Yeah. That whole weekend was strange. I went home for Chase's birthday party—on the drive to Llanfair the photographer calls—something about the first pics didn't develop—could he meet with me that weekend for a re-shoot. I told him I was out of town and would be coming back on Monday—the next day he shows up at Llanfair with his camera."

Natalie couldn't help but laugh again at the look John gave her—how wonderful it was to be laughing with him again, "I know—I was sorta freaked out by the whole thing. I was headed over to see Roxy so told him to follow me. Figured we could do something near the statue or the roof of the hotel—but then Roxy opened her big mouth about your old room being free and how we should use that."

John grinned at imagining the looks Natalie was giving Roxy that day to shut her up, "Well—I guess that explains the look you were giving when that picture was taken."

"You always inspired me," she grinned and then looked down—the silence that followed that declaration was deafening and she figured it would be best if she left now before saying something else she regretted. "I—I better get going."

"Really?" he asked, wishing she'd stay a little longer—he had missed her, had missed this—just two friends hanging out and chatting over a couple of beers. He got up and walked her to the door, "Hey—thanks for coming over so we could clear the past—it'll make it easier to work together starting in the morning—and we always did work good together."

"Yeah—we did, didn't we?" she smiled and started down the hallway. "Goodnight John."

"Night," he said as he closed the door and leaned back against it. Tonight they had made progress. But was it enough progress that he could get that second chance with her before the case was closed and the FBI called him to his next case.

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Natalie turned the corner down the corridor and smiled at the sight before her—John was camped out on the bench next to her office looking over some notes he must have taken last night. "Morning," she said as she unlocked her office door and he shuffled the papers up and walked in behind her.

"This is for you," he said handing her a cup of coffee before sitting down in the chair next to the door.

"Mmm. You remember me so well," she smiled as she took a sip.

_I remember more about you than I should legally be allowed to,_ he thought to himself as a smirk appeared on his face.

"What's that look for? What are you thinking about?" she asked as she took off her jacket and hung it up.

"Nothing," he said as he blushed slightly at the thoughts he was having.

"By the quantity of notes it looks like you didn't get sleep much last night—you think you got a better lead now?" she teased.

"Yeah—and you aren't going to like it," he said as he handed her pages from a magazine and watched her tense up more with each one.

She was staring into the eyes of each of the victims—while they were still alive, proud of how far they came in a field that was predominantly male driven. Her hands began to shake as she realized the last one John held, "Is this some sort of joke?"

"Natalie," he said quietly—seeing her hands shake before dropping the pages and they scattered on the floor.

"Don't—John McBain don't you dare tell me to be quiet and walk away from this case. I'm walking into this case with my eyes wide open—and if some sick nut job has it out for me and other women who want to make a career out of their lives then bring it on. Because I know what I'm doing and I'll be damned if he thinks he can get away with this," she said in one breath—yelling the end as loud as she could.

Natalie jumped as her door opened quickly and Damon came in the room, "What's going on in here? I could hear you all the way in my office."

"Give John a gold star for figuring out the case—and it just happens to be that it puts me in harms way and a possible victim."

"Are you serious?" he asked as he picked up the photos and realized that each of the victims had been interviewed for an article about their career—the same interview that Natalie was given and on newsstands now.

"Yes—isn't he just the best serial killer expert? Too bad this case is only big enough for one of us, and I'm not going anywhere," she said, glaring straight at John.


	5. Chapter 5

"Was that a threat to remove me from this case, Buchanan?" asked John with a tinge of laughter in his voice.

"Heck yeah it was a threat—is Scoletta your boss again? Because don't think I won't call him up and have you removed from this case in a heartbeat. I've got more clout now than you think," she said, her words laced with truth and anger at what she feared he'd try and do—remove her from the case because she could be in danger.

"That's not—,"

"Don't lie to me John."

"Ok—wait," said Damon and he hesitantly walked into the middle of the firing range. "I don't know what type of history you have together—"

"Got a couple hours?" snapped Natalie.

"No—and I don't want to know," he said as he walked in front of Natalie to block John from her sight. "Now what are you thinking Agent McBain is planning on doing?"

"He's planning on protecting me—that's what."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It is when his MO for protecting me is shoving me off the case and out of his life."

Damon shook his head in confusion, "Ok—there's something I'm missing."

"Yeah—common sense. For years I was the victim—always watching what I did and worried I'd be kidnapped at a moments notice. Well, let me tell you something friend," she said as she shoved Damon out of the way to get right back into John's face. "I haven't been kidnapped or the victim for five years—I think the curse is broken—and I shouldn't have to back down from this case or any case. Ok?"

John just stared straight back into her eyes—part of him wanted to scream at her for her safety, but the other part wanted to hold her and kiss her—the later won and the next thing Natalie realized was his arms were around her waist and his mouth was pressing down onto hers in a deep passionate kiss.

She started to fall into the kiss for a moment—forgetting where she was or who she was kissing. Suddenly she stopped and pulled back, "What the hell was that?"

"It shut you up—didn't it?' he grinned as she tried to say something but couldn't. "Now will you let me talk?" he asked as she stood there silently staring back at him. "If you honestly don't want me on this case—if you honestly think I can't bring anything to the table then I'll go and get another agent down here to help you. It's your choice, kid."

She glared at him—he was making her look like a complete idiot in front of her boss. As much as wanted to take him up on the offer she knew they needed his experience. "Fine—you can stay—you always were good at serial killers," she snarked as she stormed out of her office and downstairs to the lab for a few hours to blow off steam.

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"Does it make sense to you?" asked Damon as he looked at the pictures hanging up of the victims.

There were six pictures hanging up—from the first article to Natalie. All Damon could keep on doing was staring at the first picture—why did they killings start with the 2nd article? Was there a failed attempt with her?

John though—was staring at Natalie's picture—the story of the photographer following her up to Llanview—it didn't sound right last night, and now it sounded even more suspicious. "We've got a few people to interview now—that's a start."

"You like keeping me out of the loop on stuff?" asked Damon—as he watched John shuffle through the open magazines covering his desk.

"Like what?" asked John as he found the first article and picked it up.

"You and Natalie. In three years I've pissed her off a lot, but nothing like what I saw earlier," he laughed.

John grinned, "I have that effect on her. Don't worry—we're going to keep this professional," he said—knowing they never kept anything professional. "That's what I thought," he said passing over the article to Damon, "The photographer that did Natalie's pictures didn't do the first article."

Damon grinned, "You want to talk to him or me?"

"What'd ya'll figure out?" asked Natalie as she walked in the office, her official forensics bag slung over her shoulder.

"Your buddy here just realized it's the photographer," said Damon as he looked up to see Natalie finish giving John a look.

"Oh—really," she said as she messed with the strap. "I've got a scene they want me to go process—that'll probably take me most of the day then I've got that thing tonight. Just wanted you to know where I was."

"A thing?" questioned John.

"It's a function of sorts—I made a promise to someone to attend."

"You need an escort?" he asked, oblivious to the way it sounded and that Damon was in the room.

"A bodyguard you mean? No, John—I'm a big girl," she smiled as she turned and left.

"You ever heard of being subtle, McBain?" asked Damon as he started to laugh.

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"How long you been a photographer?" questioned John as he stood in Eric Lansing's studio.

"Personally, my whole life—professionally, about 8 years. Where is this going?" he asked, his tone becoming tense.

"When the photo's from a shoot do not come out the way you want—do you normally stalk the person to get a re-shoot?"

"Excuse me?" he said loudly.

"Natalie Buchanan—do you remember doing a photo shoot for her for a magazine?"

"Yes," he said, his hands gripping the ledge of the table he was leaning against.

"She said something about you went up to Llanview Pennsylvania because the original photo's did not come out right. Is that true?"

"Yes, but what does this have to do with anything? I was on a deadline—."

"Right," said John as his phone went off. He did a double take on the call and glanced at Damon, "I've got to take this," he said as Damon nodded before John went down the hall. "Hey Bo."

"John. How's it going?"

"It's going."

"Good."

"You aren't the type to just call and shoot the breeze with Bo—is everything ok? Is Michael ok?"

"It has nothing to do with Michael," Bo said as he explained what the call was for.

"Ok. Yeah. We'll be in touch," said John as he hung up the phone and walked back into the studio and looked straight at Eric, "I think we're good for now. But—don't leave town," he said as him and Damon both left quickly.

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She walked into the small gallery and was immediately approached by a waiter with champagne glasses—after taking one she began walking around, studying his paintings. Cris' style had one again changed since he married Alicia—still as intense as they had when he'd first gotten out of prison, but the passion and love was back in them.

He was a success again, and she was glad of that. When she looked at Cris and Alicia talking with a potential buyer she remembered when that was her instead of Alicia—watching his next masterpiece come to life and then smooching with the art collectors and agreeing with everything they said.

They both saw her standing there and came over. "You made it," smiled Cris as he came and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Of course—it's not every day that there's a showing of your work here," she laughed as she gave Alicia a hug and peck on the cheek.

"I just thought you might be too busy, since everyone in Llanview tells me you're the best now."

Natalie blushed slightly, "I'm not that great."

"Oh stop being modest," laughed Alicia as she saw someone else and went to visit.

"Everything good with you two?"

"Couldn't be better," he said as she looked over to his wife. "What about you? I can tell something is bothering you—so talk."

She smiled at his ability to still read her like an open book, "We've got these cases occurring—so far there have been four of them. Damon thought it would be a good idea to get the FBI involved—guess who the agent is."

"John."

Natalie shook her head for a second, surprised Cristian guessed it right off the bat, "Wow—you're good."

"It wasn't too hard of a guess," said Cris as he turned her around and she saw John standing against the wall, trying to figure out when to come forward. When he saw both her and Cris look at him he walked forward.

"I told you I didn't need a bodyguard," she glared at him.

"I know, but Damon and I think there's another possible murder and I'm going to investigate."

"What about me? You're going to need someone to process the scene."

"It's already being processed. It's in Llanview—it was Evangeline."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Ya'll enjoy! I'm gone for the weekend--be back on Wednesday after work. Until next time--PCGirl._

_----------------------_

_It sure seems overly ornate-especially for just one person to be living here._ That's all Natalie could think as her and John turned into the driveway that Bo had just pulled into. It was morning-the crime scene had been done before their plane ever landed last night so they'd met Bo at the station and he'd brought them over-giving them a chance to review the scene-see if there was anything at the scene that pointed to their guy.

"What are you thinking over there?" asked John with a slight grin as he parked the car.

"Nothing," she said as she got out and grabbed her bag from the trunk. She took one look at the large front doorway before beginning a walk down the side of the driveway-her head down and eyes open for anything specific that seemed out of place. She could tell the lawn and gardens were maintained by a landscape company—she couldn't have imagined Evangeline actually working in a garden. She shook her head—the woman had been killed the night before, it wasn't time to be catty.

She stopped and looked at the bushes in front of her, noticing they seemed disturbed—a few branches broken. As she knelt down she saw a small window slightly ajar that led into the basement. She looked up to see Bo standing directly above her, "Did they dust that window last night?"

"I don't think they did."

"I'll take care of it," she smiled as she pulled out her camera and went to work as the two men went off to take a look at the rest of the house.

----------------------

Natalie walked up the stairs and down the hallway to the room she heard John's and Bo's voices coming from. When she'd been in the basement she remembered being locked in one before—fearing the worst outcome and it'd given her shivers down her spine.

Something wasn't making sense though—if that window had been the entry it was against the MO of the other killings—which so far had been a side door to the garage or such. As she turned the corner she saw John standing over Evangeline's dresser, his fingers running over a jewelry box, lifting the lid just slightly—as if waiting to hear something—and then dropping it shut when he saw Natalie standing there.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked as he slipped his hand back into his pocket.

"No—there were fingerprints, but it just doesn't seem right—the MO's not right—the rest of them have been from the articles."

"Articles?" questioned Bo.

"John realized all the previous victims were featured in articles—it was women in prominent positions that aren't normally geared for females. And though Evangeline was lawyer—,"

"Being a female lawyer isn't unusual," finished John. He was having the same feeling Natalie was—something didn't quiet mesh here, and if it was connected to the Atlanta deaths then they were missing a huge clue and needed to return today.

------------------

"Thanks for bringing me home," smiled Natalie as John pulled into the driveway of Natalie's house.

"No problem," he said as he took a look at the house—it was a small Craftsman Bungalow-style house. Though it was dark he could tell on each side of the front walk way were flower beds filled to the brim. The house had a cheery, welcoming feel—one that made you want to come in and make yourself comfortable.

"Want to come see the inside?" she smiled as she got out of the car and went to the side door—having her key ready as she walked up the three steps and into the kitchen. She placed her purse down and swore she'd left her shawl from the event the night before on the counter.

"Is something the matter?" asked John as he noticed her staring at the counter.

"Huh? No—I must have left my shawl at Cris' event—I'll go by and get it tomorrow before work," she said as she grabbed two beers out of the fridge. "Come on—I'll show you my favorite part of the house," she spoke as she handed him one, and turned the light on to go upstairs.

John noticed they passed what seemed to be her bedroom and continued down the hallway to a small door, which Natalie unlocked with an old looking key on her key ring. As he walked up into the room he realized he was in her office—a desk and book cases lined the far back wall—a pool table was closer to him, "Nice," he smiled.

"That's not my favorite part," she said as she continued to walk to a set of French Doors and opened them to reveal a cozy outdoor retreat. "And you said I didn't have any roofs to sit and think on," she laughed as she sat down on the bench that was against the side of the house.

"You proved me wrong again, Buchanan," he grinned as he walked to the edge and noticed the pool in the backyard.

"This was the selling point—the realtor tried to show me other houses in the area—but I kept thinking about this space. How this is me."

"It's unusual for a bungalow to have this sort of patio off the back—isn't it?" he questioned.

Natalie nodded, "But then—I'm not normal either. Anyways—enough about the house—let's talk about this case," she said as John took a seat on a nearby chair and they talked into the night.

--------------------

Natalie brought her coffee with her when she went back into the art gallery the next morning—her and John had talked into the morning, first about the case, and finally not saying anything—just enjoying the quietness of each other's company.

A smile appeared on her face as she thought about what this might mean—what it could mean in the end—but she still didn't want him to treat her with kid gloves and first he'd have to realize that.

"Natalie," greeted Alicia as she came to Natalie.

"Hey—is Cris around?" she asked.

"No—he said he wasn't feeling well—went back to the hotel room to hopefully sleep off whatever he's coming down with. Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah—I think I might have left my wrap here the other night. I had to leave so quickly I must have imagined getting it," she said as they walked to the coat check and Alicia went inside.

"I don't see it—are you sure you left it?" she asked Natalie after she searched under the counter.

"Who knows—my mind must be playing tricks on me. I need to get to work—tell Cris I hope he feels better."

"Thanks—I will," she smiled as Natalie left for another busy day at the office.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry it's short--there's a lot of loose ends that will be wrapped up in the next chapter. Hopefully those ends will be tied up faster than the show and the stupid "who kill your daddy?" story that's going on right now. Bonus points if you can tell me what the giant chicken comment is about. Until next time--ya'll are the best--PCGirl.

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"I went ahead and bought coffee—do you still take yours black, John?" asked Natalie as she walked into Damon's office with her arms full with three cups.

"Thanks," said John as he helped her and passed one to Damon. "Did you find that wrap thingy at the gallery?" he asked as she took her seat.

"No—maybe I left it at the neighbors when I dropped off—," she stopped, realizing she was talking out loud.

"Natalie—," said John slowly.

"Jonathan," she repeated in the same tone, a smile appearing on her lips and her eyes dancing with laughter.

The look she gave him made John smile and he decided to drop the discussion and turned to Damon, "What did you learn about our photographer while we were gone?"

"Eric Lansing is a free lance photographer—seems legit enough. I actually looked into the photographer from the first shoot—his bank account shows a large deposit of cash two months ago—I'm trying to make up a timeline here of when each woman was chosen for the article."

"Make sure to note when the first photographer left," said Natalie as her phone began to ring and she walked out to take the call, "Hey—yeah, I got back in late last night—I'll come by at lunch and pick her up—thank you so much for watching her on short notice. Were there any problems? Oh no—I'll pay for it—no don't be silly. Tell her I love her and I'll see her soon," she smiled as she hung up the phone and realized John was standing right outside the door.

"Sorry—Damon has a phone call. I want to go to the magazine's office—start asking around. Maybe I can get an idea as to what happened to the first photographer. You got plans?"

"Yeah—I need to get down to the lab for a bit—make sure the new techs know what they are doing," she winked and then laughed as she turned and walked off.

John just watched her—the parts he heard of the phone conversation didn't make sense. Had she had a child since he last saw her? Had she actually been able to find herself in bed with another man and not see him?

-------------------

John walked into the ornate office—and towards the oversized reception desk. Behind the desk was a large mural of the Atlanta skyline in the center, with different landmarks scattered throughout. _Is that a giant chicken?_, thought John as he reached the desk and saw the young receptionist sitting behind it, filing her nails and smacking on gum. When she saw him arrive the nail file suddenly disappeared and she put on a warm smile to greet him with.

"Hi—welcome to the offices of Buzz Magazine—can I help you?

"Hi—I'm FBI Agent McBain—I was wondering if there was someone I could speak with about your business."

"Well, what is it you wanted to know?" she smiled bashfully, though he could tell she was starting to get nervous. Not that she probably had anything to hide—she just didn't know how to react to a Federal Agent.

"The magazine—it just got bought recently, correct?"

"Oh yes—it was bought by a private individual by the name of Charles Rose. Anything else?"

"I need to speak with the writer of your series of articles on career driven women. Is he in?"

"No—I believe he went to meet with Mr. Rose this morning to determine the next lady for those articles. Mr. Rose has been picky about this one—I think he wants to stop the articles at where they are."

"Mr. Rose picks them himself?" asked John, slightly shocked at the news.

"Oh yes—he's very hands on in that aspect of the business especially."

"I'm sure he is," smiled John.

-------------------

"You're back," smiled Natalie as she watched John walk down the hallway to her office.

"Yeah—didn't get much. The man that did the article—James—he was out with the new owner trying to decide on the next woman to interview. I gave him my number—want to set up a meeting with him. Hopefully he can help set up the timeline that Damon's trying to get straight."

"You want to go out for lunch while we wait for the call? I know a place that has amazing burgers—they have a pool table too," she smiled as he nodded.

"JOHN!" came a shout from down the hall and they both turned to see a young blonde come running towards him and throw her arms around his neck.

Natalie stood there watching the scene unfold—John's arms going around her waist to hug her back. She felt like an intruder and instead of putting it off as just a friend she realized he must have been in a relationship.

"Hey--Ashton—what are you doing here?" asked John as he removed his hands from her waist and looked back at her.

"My assignment was up—I have the weekend off. Why? Are you busy?" she asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt—being way too close for them being just friends.

"I—," he stopped and looked over to Natalie who was standing there.

"It's ok, John. I have something I need to do for lunch anyways. Nice to meet you," she said as she quickly turned and walked off.

"Oh, did I interrupt something?" smiled Ashton as John just stood there and watched Natalie leave.


	8. Chapter 8

John kept staring down the hallway at the police station after Natalie had left—she'd left thinking he was with someone and that was—well, for the most part that wasn't the truth. He turned back to Ashton to see Damon coming up with some papers in his hands, "Can we get together later?"

"Sure—call me when you get free," she smiled as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before turning and leaving.

"Oh man—please tell me Natalie didn't see her," cracked Damon as he got to where John was.

"Too late," mumbled John as he turned and they made their way to Damon, and for the time being, John's office. "I've got a name—Charles Rose—he's the new owner of the magazine. I was thinking—."

"Background check," finished Damon.

"I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," laughed John as they went into the office and started seeing what they could find.

----------------------

Natalie looked in the rearview and watched Georgie sleep. The park wore you out—didn't it? she thought to herself as she made a turn on the way home.

After picking Georgie up from the neighbor's they'd gotten food and gone to the park and enjoyed themselves. She'd called Damon and let him know she was taking half a personal day, reminded him she wasn't on call this weekend, but don't hesitate to call her if needed.

She was almost home when the phone rang, "Hello?"

"Natalie—hi—it's Alicia. Did I interrupt you?"

"No—I was just headed home. I decided I spend way too much time at that police station so I'm taking a half day," she laughed. "Is everything ok?"

"Cris—he's at the gallery right now. I wouldn't call if I didn't think something was off—but he's acting—well, not himself. There's no one else in town that knows him. Do you think you could just randomly stop and check in on him? You're a good friend to him—he'll tell you if something is wrong."

Natalie glanced in the rearview again, "Yeah—give me a few minutes at home and I'll be on my way."

----------------------------

"I can't believe there's nothing on this guy. You'd think we could at least find a picture of him. It's just like he came in out of nowhere."

"Nobody just shows up—he's got a past—we just have to dig deeper," said John as the phone rang and he nodded for Damon to pick up.

"Hello? Yes—this is Damon Porter—James, hello. Myself and Agent McBain with the FBI were hoping to get to talk with you today. Is there a time we can meet with you? Ok—well then tomorrow—how about 10 am? Yes sir, I understand this is the weekend—ok, we will see you then," he said, hanging up the phone.

"He didn't ask what this was about—that's one point against him," said John with a roll of his eyes as he went back to the computer.

"You think he'll show tomorrow?"

"Oh trust me—he'll show. If he doesn't we'll just have to pay him a visit to his house."

-----------------

Natalie walked up the stairs that led into the gallery, glancing at the sign that read _Owned and Maintained by Lars Sheers Co._ She walked through the first gallery noticing the eerie quietness of the building, "Cristian?" she called out—hearing silence Natalie continued through to the back room.

She still didn't hear a response and continued down a small hallway, seeing him sitting at a desk over a sketch book. She placed her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, "Cris."

He jerked around immediately and grabbed her wrist—she was almost sure he was going to break it in two and she knew he saw the fear that flashed in her eyes.

"Natalie—I'm so sorry."

"I'm ok," she said as she rubbed her arm where he'd grabbed it.

"What are you doing here?"

"Alicia sent me—wanted me to check in on you. She's worried about you—says you aren't acting like yourself—and I'm scared to say this, but I agree."

"I'm fine—it's just stress, that's all."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Yes," he said louder.

"Everything ok with you and Alicia?"

"Yeah—like I said the other night—we're fine."

"She's worried about you."

"Well, she doesn't have to be. I'm fine—my paintings are selling again—my life couldn't be more perfect."

Natalie attempted to smile at hearing him, but she knew he was lying, "Ok. I'll tell Alicia it's just stress. But Cris—something is going on. Even if it is just stress you need to find a way to release it—and I don't think painting is getting out all of it."

"I could go back to boxing," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes at his tease, "Uhm—no. That's not the stress reliever I was thinking of. If you need anything call me." As Natalie walked back through the gallery she felt that she was being watched. She turned around to see if Cris had followed her out, but he wasn't there.

Natalie quickened her step out of the gallery—she wanted to hurry up and get home where she knew she'd feel safer.

------------------

John rang the doorbell for a third time and still got no answer. He finally tried the door knob and found it unlocked. As he walked into Natalie's kitchen he set down the takeout he'd gone ahead and bought he could hear her voice telling someone to get inside.

"Natalie?" he called out as he began to walk towards the sound of her face.

Suddenly he saw a blur and was knocked to the floor. He could feel a sharp pain in his arm as Natalie began to pull something off of him. When he realized he hadn't been shot he looked up to see Natalie standing at his feet.

She was wearing nothing but a blue bikini, soaked from head to toe, and holding back a snarling Golden Retriever. "What the hell are you doing here, John?"

-----------------

"I'm really sorry about Georgie."

"She was protecting you—can't apologize for that," said John as he sat on the couch in the living room checking out the holes in his shirt—lucky she hadn't broken the skin.

"Why'd you come by anyways?"

"I brought dinner—thought we needed to talk about some stuff."

"Oh—I thought you'd be out with Ashton."

John chuckled, "No—she's not my type. She's a rookie agent—my last case she was under me. And well you know how well I am with expressing my feelings."

Natalie laughed at watching him blush and blushed herself slightly, "Ahhh—well you are pretty easy on the eyes too."

"Thanks—I think," he said with a raised eyebrow as he looked at Georgie who was now resting at Natalie's feet—keeping one eye still on him. "Where'd you get her anyways?"

Natalie smiled as she patted Georgie's head, "I bought the house and the day after I moved there was a small puppy sitting outside the screened porch in the back. Turns out she was from a litter that the neighbor's dog had just had and had found her way through the fence. I returned her to them and fixed the fence—but she kept on coming back day after day—finding new ways to get to me. After about a week we finally decided she was meant to be mine.

"She showed me what unconditional love is. No matter what I do—or the decisions I make throughout the day—when I get home she's there waiting for me. I've realized I never have gotten to feel that from a person before. It's amazing to actually feel it and see it first hand for once in my life."

There was a heavy silence between the two of them as John finally decided it needed to be broken. "You deserve that type of love Natalie—especially from a human," he spoke quietly as looked down and back at her. "There's something I've been keeping from you since I came to town."


	9. Chapter 9

"What is it you need to tell me?" asked Natalie—her stomach knotting itself into a pretzel as she watched John sit on the couch across from her.

"I heard about this case a few weeks ago—when Damon contacted the FBI about possible assistance the first person they came to was me. I turned it down immediately—didn't want to be pulled into another serial killer case—didn't want those memories of Haver and Barber running me over once again.

"But then—then I started looking into the case file, reading the notes—I saw your name."

"John." The word came out so softly that John was barely able to hear it.

"I wanted in on the case then—I didn't come here to be your white knight. I came here because I wanted to see if we still had a chance. Everything you've done for me—everything you did for me—I took it all for granted. I figured this would be my chance to make it up to you."

"I'm confused—you came here to help me solve a case as a payment for your gratitude?"

"No."

He stood up and began pacing the living room—Georgie's eyes following his circles until he ended up standing directly in front of Natalie. "I came here because I wanted to see if you'd be willing to give a completely oblivious man one last chance to make this all work."

"I can't get my heart broken again, John," said Natalie as her eyes connected with his and he saw them filling with tears. "Especially not by you."

John kneeled in front of her, pushing a piece of wet hair out of her face and behind her ear—he could feel the electricity that ran through them by just that simple gesture. "That's not what I want either. I want our chance—you still haunt my dreams Natalie, the way you feel—how you taste," he said softly as his thumb ran over her lips and he felt her breath hitch just a moment.

John leaned in and kissed her softly at first, then when she didn't try and fight he began to kiss deeper, his hands moving and tangling themselves in her hair. He pulled back from the kiss and looked back into her eyes and could see love and desire in them before she pulled his mouth back to hers and he pushed her back into the leather couch.

--------------------

Natalie began stretching on the bed the next morning before she opened her eyes. Feeling the other side empty she thought it must have been a dream, but she remembered making her way up to the bedroom and the feel of John's hands wrapped around her waist for most of the night.

She opened her eyes and saw his side was empty, slipped out of the bed, grabbing her robe she tied it quickly as she slipped out and saw the door to her office was open. As she walked up the steps she could hear John's voice coming from the deck and could hear him talking to someone.

"I know we didn't get off on the best of terms—hopefully you'll get to know me better now. You seem ok yourself—for a dog."

Natalie laughed at realizing he was talking to as she made her way to the French door and saw Georgie sitting and watching him while he drank a cup of coffee, "Georgie—you know better," she scolded and the dog shot out off the deck and out the office. "Sorry—I really don't like her being up here."

"I didn't know—did I wake you?"

She shook her head as she took a seat next to him, "You got up early."

"Yeah, Damon called to remind me about our interview this morning. I need to head into the station soon."

"Want me to come?"

"No, enjoy the day off—I'll be back soon enough," he said as he gave her a kiss and began to walk back into the office and downstairs. He looked back at Natalie, sitting on the bench, the morning sun glistening off her red locks. He'd known he had for a long time, but suddenly finally had the urge to say the words for the first time, "I love you, Natalie."

Natalie blushed at hearing him say the words so easily, "I love you too, John."

---------------

John walked down the hallway of the station and saw Damon standing against the door by the office, "Did James show up?"

"Yeah, he's in the first interview room, but I think you might want to take care of something else first," said Damon and he nodded towards the door.

John wrinkled his brow at Damon as he opened and saw Ashton sitting in a chair. She jumped up and gave him a big hug and then a kiss, "Hey—where were you last night? You never came back to your hotel room."

He froze for a moment, then looked over at Damon who was now grinning before John shut the door on his face. "Ashton," he sighed.

"It's ok, we'll make up for it tonight," she joked as she went to touch his face.

John took her hand and calmly put it at her side, "There is no us—you know that."

"There can be—at least for this weekend—I know how to get you to release all that stress," she said as she tried to reach for his shoulders but he again stepped out of her grasp.

"I'm sorry—I don't want to hurt you."

"What are you talking about? Where were you last night anyways?"

"I will and I am when I tell you last night I spent making love to a woman I've loved since the first moment I met her."

"Stop joking."

"I'm not. Listen, whatever happened in the past in there—in the past. There won't be a future between you and me. First of all because I'm finally getting my chance with Natalie. Second, after this is over I'm getting out of the FBI again."

"She—she was the redhead?" said Ashton as her voice shook.

"Yeah, that's Natalie," he said, a smile creeping on his lips. "I'm sorry—I never meant to hurt you. You're going to find the right one, someday—it's just not me."

---------------------

"Thanks for coming in James—it's ok if I call you James, right?" asked John as he sat slightly on the interview desk and took a sip of his coffee.

"I'm a busy man—what is all this about anyways?"

"Tell us about these women," said Damon as he laid out copies of the crime scene photos in front of him.

"You think I did this?"

"No, but you know who did. What happened with the first photographer? He say no to your little game so you pay him off? Give him a couple hundred grand to shush him?" asked John.

"No—that's not what happened."

"Then tell us what did," stated Damon.

"All I know is he talked in private with Mr. Rose and then he left. I don't even know about him being paid."

"What do you know about your boss exactly?" asked John.

"Not much—he's a businessman—said the magazine was a business venture. The articles were his idea."

Damon looked at John before asking the next question, "How many other women are there between the last victim and Natalie Buchanan?"

When James wouldn't answer John yelled, "How many?"

James hung his head down before speaking quietly, "None. Mr. Rose wanted her in the end."

"In the end?" he repeated looking up to Damon.

"When Mr. Rose came to me about the series of articles he had Natalie already picked out—she was the only one picked out—he called her the final—."

Both men watched James freeze and his face turn ashy white, "The final what?" asked Damon—his voice getting louder but keeping all composure to not bash the man's head in.

James looked up and spoke with a shaky voice, "He called her the final victim."

------------------

"What's the next step?" asked Damon as he sat behind his desk, watching John pace as he threw a Nerf basketball with one hand.

"Well, we can't exactly tell Natalie 'guess what—you are a victim after all—the sicko knows you'."

"No, I don't think that would go very smoothly," chuckled Damon. "Hey—if it isn't my business—earlier, with the blonde girl—were you really with Natalie all night?"

John grinned, "You're right, it isn't your business—but yeah, we were together all night. And before you say anything—no, I won't hurt her, and yes we'll keep it professional."

"Just checking," he grinned as he looked at his watch. "Wow—is it really this late? You want to go pick up the girls and get some dinner?"

"Sounds good—my mind could use a rest for a little while."


	10. Chapter 10

"What do you think they are talking about over there?" asked Natalie without looking up from her shot.

"Who knows—probably not football picks," commented Jenn as she took a sip of her drink before studying the table for a moment.

"They are keeping something from me—I could tell when John came by to pick me up."

"Ya'll didn't waste any time, did you?" she asked with a laugh.

Natalie just grinned as she glanced over at John still standing at the bar, watching her every move while him and Damon talked. Their eyes connected and she couldn't help but smile more, "Well—we've wasted enough time already. Nearly nine years since we first met."

She studied the table as she heard a nearby cops radio begin a broadcast, _We need a unit to 4892 East Town Place Drive—reports of a domestic dispute in progress._ Natalie walked over to the cop and he let her borrow his radio, "Can you repeat the address?"

_4892 East Town Place Drive_, came the crackle over the radio. She looked over to see Damon and John both walking towards her, "Lieutenant Damon Porter and FBI Agent John McBain, along with FT Natalie Buchanan are on their way."

"What did you just do?"

"The address—it's the gallery where Cris is at—we have to get to him," she said as she grabbed her purse and was out the bar.

-------------------

She heard John yell her name to stop, but she kept going into the gallery alone. "Alicia? Cris?" she called out as she entered the first room of the Gallery and continued into the second as she heard a noise behind her and turned to see Alicia standing there, dried tearstains on her face. "Hey—is everything ok?" she said as she came and hugged her.

"No, it's not—he's—he not my Cristian anymore. Not the man I loved—something is different and I don't know what."

"Sit—tell me what happened," she said as she maneuvered her to a bench and sat down next to her. She glanced at John walking in and continuing into the next Gallery.

"He didn't come back to the hotel room—so I came back here to see how he was. He keeps complaining about these headaches—I thought maybe it was just the stress of the showing. He was in the small office in the back, leaning over writing something—I touched his shoulder to get his attention—he flung back and hit me," she said as she put a hand on her face where Natalie could see the outline of a bruise forming.

All she could think of was how Alicia was right—how this wasn't the Cristian she knew either. It reminded her of another Cristian Vega—the dark one that came off of that ship. The one that was still brainwashed. Suddenly she could feel the goose bumps on her arms and heard Cris' voice from the other room.

"I'm fine, McBain—there's no reason for you to play white knight," he said as he stormed into the room first and over to Alicia.

"That's not what I was doing—your wife called in a domestic dispute and I came to check it out."

"Oh, I'm sorry—are you a Fed again or a local cop? Not that the difference has stopped you before," he said as he turned quickly on his feet and got directly into John's face.

"Stop it," yelled Natalie as she got between him and John. "It was me that heard the call—not John. And it was me that wanted to see that you were ok, Cris. Sorry, I bothered you," she said as she walked out of the gallery.

"It's over?" asked Damon as he stood on the steps of the gallery with Jenn.

"Yeah—no charges will be filed, it was a misunderstanding," she huffed as she got in the car and slammed the door closed.

Damon looked at Natalie and then to his wife, "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah—I just was looking at this nameplate. Lars Sheer Co.—I mean I'm a real estate agent and I've never heard of this group. Is that odd?"

"Maybe they are new," he shrugged as John walked down the steps also and he followed.

"Yeah—maybe," she said quietly.

-----------------------

The man gave an evil laugh as he watched the scene unfolding through the video surveillance in the gallery. His plan was still perfect—still unknown to the parties involved. They were getting close, he knew that—but they would never realize what he truly had in store.

How he would bring down these two men.

How he would finally be the one to have the girl, he thought as he brought the turquoise wrap to his nose and took in the scent.

He put it down and picked up the phone, turning on the voice scrambler before typing in the number, "Yes—it's me," he spoke. "You've been a good disciple and always done as you are told, but your duties are done. You know what to do next," he said as he heard a drawer open, the cock of a gun, and then the blast of the bullet went through the phone.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Here you go Jess and Laura--something else for you to read. I think ya'll are the only ones that still read my stories here at LOL! And thank you to all the other non-Yahoo'ers that read it here too. Ya'll enjoy this! Until next time--Ya'll are the best--PCGirl.

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It was his touch that woke her up, a finger gliding over her curves from shoulder blade and continuing well below where the covers began. "John—stop that," she sighed as she felt the goose bumps continue to form.

"That's not what you were saying over and over last night," he whispered into her ear, his voice thick with sleep.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind," she said as she rolled over and finally opened her eyes to see she was staring right back into his. "Good morning, McBain."

"Good morning to you too, Buchanan," he said as he took her mouth with his. "Sleep well?" he asked as he pushed her hair out of her face so he could take in all her beauty.

Natalie nodded quietly as she ran a finger down his chest, "Do you need to go into the station?"

"Not planning on it unless something comes up. Today is supposed to be a day of rest and I'm thinking of staying in bed all day," said John with a wicked grin as he suddenly rolled over onto Natalie and began devouring her, starting with her neck and moving southward.

As he began to dip below her collar bone Natalie could hear a ringing sound in the distance and it took her a moment before she realized it was her phone—John's movements pulled her under and away from any realization that she should answer the phone.

She felt his lips on her skin and a hand inching its way up the inside of her thigh, pulling her under John's spell with once again when suddenly the touching and movement stopped and a buzzing sound took it's place. She opened her eyes to see John's head looking towards the buzzing sound—his cell phone that he had put on the nightstand the night before.

"John—don't," she begged, but she knew they needed to answer it. There was a break in the case that apparently needed both of their attention.

He reached for the phone and looked at the number, telling her it was Damon before answering it, "Hello?"

"Hey—did I interrupt something?" he asked, laughter filling his voice.

"What do you think?" yelled Natalie as John got up off of her and out of the bed.

"Tell her I wouldn't call if it wasn't important, but I have another crime scene that needs processing."

-----------------------

"He's all yours," said Natalie to the coroner as she finished taking photos of photographer Eric Lansing's body—a single, self-inflicted gun shot to the right temple had killed him and it was her job to figure out what set him off.

As his body was bagged and taken away she once again took note of the cordless phone that had been lying next to his phone—as she bagged it she realized the battery was dead, it had been on all night, indicating he'd been on the phone when he took his own life.

It seemed odd—to be talking on the phone and calmly pulling a gun out of a drawer and just shooting yourself. But then—this whole case was getting more bizarre by the moment and all Natalie could think of was finishing it up.

------------------

She looked up from her desk in the lab to see John enter the room and towards her—handing him a piece of rope that was now locked in an evidence bag, "I got it from Lansing's dark room—it had blonde hairs on it, when the tests are done they'll probably connect him to the second murder—she was a blonde," she answered when he looked at her quizzically. She paused for a moment and looked down before back at John, "Maybe he knew we were closing in on him. Someone tipped him off—so he decided to end it the easy way."

"Someone knew he was the killer then," he answered casually—knowing what him and Damon had just decided upstairs was about to make her angry enough to get into harms way.

"We'll figure out who it was, John."

"Yeah—listen—Damon and I—we want you to work from home for the week."

"What?" she asked as her head shot up.

"You said it yourself—we're getting close—and this guy is getting nervous, so just work from home or be near one of us at all times."

"I knew this was going to happen," she yelled.

"It's not like that, Natalie."

"Then what is it like? Please explain to me why you want me to be locked up in my own house all day."

"Well, because then I can come by and be your bodyguard anytime I want," grinned John as he walked over to Natalie and took her in his arms.

"That was really corny, John," she said, unable to keep in the laugh.

"Yeah—I know—but you already know I can't lose you," he said softly as he kissed the top of her head.

---------------------

Natalie kept going over the reports that were on her screen—she hadn't been back to the station for two days now—and wished she could sneak away right now. Being hands on with the evidence and reports was so much easier than this. As she closed out the last screen and stretched her business phone rang and she answered it casually, "Hello?"

"Hey, we're on three way right now," spoke Damon.

"Go home Damon—take Jenn somewhere nice for once," laughed Natalie.

"Just found out some interesting information—figured this would be the fastest way to share."

"Are we still going out for dinner?" asked John as he walked around his hotel room.

"Yeah. Pick me up in 30?"

"I think I liked it when you two were fighting—we got more work done," laughed Damon.

"Will you just spill?"

"Be right back—someone is at the door," spoke John as he put his phone on speaker phone and walked across the small room.

"I got the last phone call that Eric Lansing received traced. It's registered to a business called Lars Sheers Company."

"What?—that's the company that owns Cristian's gallery. John, are you there?"

"I'm here," he called as he opened the door to see Cristian on the other side. "Cris—hey—is everything ok?" he said loudly so they could hear him on the phone.

Both Natalie and Damon got quiet as they heard the conversation unfold.

"No—I—I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm hurting Alicia—she's scared of me—doesn't want to be around me anymore. Of course—who would want to be around a murderer? Natalie didn't."

"Murderer?" said Natalie soft enough for just Damon to hear. Suddenly she jumped in her seat as the sound of a gunshot rippled through the telephone receiver. "John! John—answer me!" she screamed, but knew it was useless. "Damon—why isn't he answering?"

"Calm down, tiger—I'm sending help right now. Stay in your office—do not leave it under any circumstances," said Damon as he ended the phone conversation.

Natalie froze—that wasn't Cristian—that wasn't the Cristian she knew that had pulled the trigger. She'd seen it the other day—saw the signs and didn't want to think the worse. Suddenly something hit her and she grabbed a piece of paper and wrote two names down on it,

_LARS SHEERS CO._

_CHARLES ROSE_

"Oh my God—why didn't I see it before," she said as she rearranged the letters in both names and was able to come up with the same name for both

_CARLO HESSER_


End file.
